‘I COULDN’T HELP BUT WONDER’ SERIES

In a city of great expectations, is it time to settle for what you can get?

It was one of those therapy coffee meetings. There I was, sitting in a huge armchair with a cup of coffee in my hand listening to my friend. I could see she was truly holding back tears. On that day, it was three years since she and her last real boyfriend broke up. For three years now, she has been extremely “lucky” in attracting all kinds of fuckboys and other human specimens with different issues and complexes. I could hear her voice shaking as she asked me that terrifying question: “I am doing everything I can, what is wrong with me?”

Back then I gave her a speech about dating that I had given myself, as well as, all my friends who at some point questioned themselves because of their dating situation. Long story short, the speech reminds you that there is nothing wrong with you, that you cannot expect everyone to have only good intentions but most importantly to emphasise that no matter what you do, dating does not involve just you but also other independent and free-willed individuals who may make their own decisions and it can so happen that those decision will not be aligned with your expectations and that is okay.

She is dating a guy now that no one likes, but her. She is pretty, she is smart, she has a good job, two masters, speaks multiple languages, yet somehow she managed to end up with a guy who has crippled views on history, is in dept and makes borderline homophobic comments while trying to portray himself as the most progressive one in the room. All this for the exchange of “taken” status and what she described as the best sex in life.

I mean I get it, orgasms are important. But how important are they? We all have been through this stage of a new relationship where we feel like we have some pink sunglasses on, everything is perfect, we spend days in bed, enjoying, breathing in that sex filled air and it is totally understandable. In order for a relationship to have a potential of working, we need to be attracted to our partner and that we usually get to see in this first stage. With time though, this part balances out with other aspects of relationship where more talking and less moaning is involved and there we get to see and learn whom we are actually sleeping with.

Whether it is him leaving dirty sock at the side of the bed or saying that white supremacy problem does not exist (which we all know, it does), what are we able to withstand only for a good fuck? Or more importantly, in the city (and world) where we know you can get anything we want, why would we compromise just to have something?

I love the idea of having it all, after all, is there a person who does not? We grew up picturing our lives rom-com perfect. Days where we wake up with no bags under our eyes, where we have the perfect job, the perfect house, the perfect clothes, the perfect partner,… as we get older we realise that it is not that easy to get everything into that “perfect” state. It is a common knowledge that when one part of your life starts going well, some other one comes crumbling down. Are we subconsciously sabotaging our dream life or is it just impossible to reach that top level?!
Of course, there is always a question mark hanging above our lives that raises a question: “Aren’t we just expecting too much from our lives?” Let me answer that once and for all: NO! Life is to be filled to the fullest, whether we are talking about career or family life, whether you choose one of these path or all of them, there is nothing you cannot achieve if only you believe in it.

So why to settle for something average if you can have the best? Imagine you get to choose meal for dinner. One dish is some low quality microwave dinner and the other one is your favourite Micheline star restaurant go to. Which one would you choose? If the answer is your favourite meal, good, if not, seek help. Now imagine they would tell you, you would have to wait for your Micheline start meal one hour more than the other one. Which one would you choose? If the answer is your favourite meal, good, if not, seek help.

Just as with food, it is same when it comes to romantic life. Stop being impatient just to have something. Good things take time but they are worth waiting for. I do not want to say: do not ever date until you meet your future husband. Date, fuck, break up and all over again! Just don’t be desperate. I can guarantee you can do much better than your desperate choices.

THE WORST THING I HAVE EVER THOUGHT OF

When moon shines to my room, directly into my bed, it keeps me up. But I don’t close curtains, I don’t turn on my stomach and cover my head with a pillow.  Instead, I stare right back at it. I don’t fight mother nature. But my eyes are alert, not a hint of tiredness. Sleep is the last thing on my mind. I know my mind, yet I always wonder through it during nights like these.

I wonder and I think. About me, about life, my lovers, my anxiety. About how I wish I were different but I don’t know how. I’m too soft, too kind. I wish I knew how to ignore an elder person on the bus and not offer them my seat. I wish I had balls to rob the bank or just a very rich man and enjoy the money. Stop worrying about my expenses for a while. It’s always been one source, out of many, of my anxiety.

The main source still is my love, though. Love equals anxiety for me and I can’t help it. I don’t know love without that crushing feeling in my chest. They have become inseparable ever since I remember. My love has always brought a lot of disappointment and so now I am always anxious. Anxiously waiting for yet another. Disappointment. Or a man. It’s the same thing. And because of that, during nights like these, when the moon shines right onto me, I think and wonder what it is that I’d love to change about my current lover. And while there have been different things about each and every one of them, they all have one thing in common. Their past.

The things is though, I don’t want to change it. I want to erase it. When you kill someone, they are remembered by the past experiences others have had with them. And that’s exactly what I fear. I want for them to have no past. No ex partners and one night stands, no stupid choices they have once made. I want them to be unrecognizable. Like a hidden gem, unseen and undiscovered. I want to strip them of who they are, and the journey they have been on. I want them to be naive and easy, to manipulate their heads and hearts by exposing them to the world of me. A leap they weren't ready for. I want them to follow me blindly, listen to what I say. Eat every word and treat it like a holy script, because there’s no one else they see. No one else they trust. No one else they know. Or at least they think they do.

I want them to have no memory of how it was to love someone before me. I want to be that special one, I want to be that person who they tell they never felt like this about anyone before. I want them to be so confused by it that they can’t even name it. I want to be the first one they fuck or make love to. That sensation they have never experienced. I want them to get obsessed with me over the fact that this is all so new for them, but no one else can give them what I can. They don’t know anyone else. And so they stay and they fall to my feet every day thanking me for who I have made them. For giving them my time and love. Or at least the illusion of it.

I just lie there. Thinking how all my past lovers have their past and I can’t even kill them because they’ll always be remembered by it.   

POETRY

DRESS

She stormed out the door,
to the road.
Vision blurred by the tears,
but she knew exactly where she was going.

Another fucking asshole.
Broke her heart,
yet again.
And now she needs a plaster
for her soul.
Yet again.

She knew exactly where she was going.
She knew the way by now.
By her broken heart.

Door to the store opened
and she walked in.
Ready to hunt down the cure,
strong enough for her pain.

Colours blended,
by her blurred vision.
But touch never failed her.
Silk or polyester,
it didn’t matter.
As long as it was sateen.

Euphoric experience,
to find the perfect dress.
And she just might have.

Standing in front of the mirror,
naked under the thin layer of medicine.
Happiness that hugged her curves so beautifully,
as no man ever could.

None of them was able to mend
her broken heart.
Ever.
None of them was able to be
what she needed.
A piece of art.
On top of her.

Suffocating, but so gently,
she almost begged for it.
Smile and smeared mascara.
And a sateen dress she couldn’t really afford.
Perfect match.

She stood there.
Suffocated.
But alive as ever.
High on good feeling.

The card swiped by itself.
Approved.
And then she left,
high on dopamine.
High on the hopes for life,
for future love.

Ready to meet another mister right.
Prince charming who will not break her heart.
Until he does.

But it was okay.
Her heart was ready to endure the pain.
She had the secret on how
not to live in vain.

She had what she needed.
The source of happiness.
The magic pill.
The immortal promise.
For a while. at least.

POETRY

CYBER

Another day, another breakfast.
News, new emails
and another cup of coffee.
Days passing by.
One after another,
and you’re still not here.

And so, I am waiting.
Impatiently patient.
Wondering when again I get to
see your face.
Not just pixels on my screen.
2D you lying in your bed.
Shirtless.

Hairy chest, I miss it.
Another day that I don’t
fall asleep on it.
And your fingers don’t
run through my hair
these days either.

Another day, another call.
And I sang you lullabies
Because you felt like a boy.
Moment of tenderness,
Even if just wireless,
I wish for another.

But days are adding up
And I don’t see the end of
This period of
Being apart, pretending to
Be building something up.

Because how can you,
When we can’t feel
the warmth of each other.
When I can feel
only my own heart beating
against the mattress.

Another call and I lie
In my bed on my stomach.
And you telling me
How you’d run your fingers
down my back.
Making me shiver,
Almost as if you were here.

POETRY

UNTITLED

I walk
down the street.
Sunglasses on,
so no one can see.
Red eyes
and a lack of sleep.
Under my eyes,
bruises.

I bike
and listen to music.
Thinking.
Of you, of us.
Of what could’ve been,
if only we tried harder.

But I can’t think
of anything.
I’ve done my best,
and you floated.
In time and space,
enjoying the moment.

You made me feel
like you cared.
Gave me a glimpse of love,
with them gestures of a lover.

You held my hand,
when I didn’t ask for it.
But you knew I’d like it.
You took me to places
I dreamt of visiting
and asked me to kiss you,
so everyone can see
what our love is.

But somehow, you
haven’t seen it at all.
Somehow, you
stayed blind.
Oblivious to
the idea of us.
And so you broke my heart.
I knew it was coming,
I was getting ready for it.
But when you did it,
it still hurt like a motherfucker.
It still felt like I was stabbed.
By you.
With so much love
that I was left helpless.
No armour to protect me.

But I didn’t scream,
I didn’t shout.
I just said: ouch,
why did you do it,
when you know
how I feel?

And you said
you didn’t know.
Life is tricky
and somehow,
I got tricked.

So now I walk
and I bike.
I listen to music,
just to feel alive.
Cause when I don’t,
I know it’s because of you.
But when I do,
I still wish I was with you.